#love the way that wonderland puts a sour taste in your mouth over the course of the story

[applebunch]

i just really love the trope where this very “joyful and bright and flashy” place is considered a place of great conflict. like wonderland in greater boston. it’s this big, beautiful theme park which is mainly associated in gb as, like, a place to escape to in the event of a tragedy.

what with nica taking leon there to help him “cope with his breakup,” or charlotte going there to take her mind of off her lack of direction, or the evicted residents of red line heading there for refuge after they’re torn out of their homes, and less notably, phil needing to use wonderland as a bargaining chip to get himself out of jail...

the place is typically associated with disaster and grief as well, since it’s leon’s death place, after all, and the history of tragedies it’s had (the burning robots...) just failure after failure after failure. it was renovated after leon’s death, and even AFTER that, the whole place becomes completely abandoned, once oliver, the current owner, “dies” after his wife divorces him.

wonderland’s place in the story is defined by escapism, grief, and disaster, and most of the time, when you go to wonderland, you don’t get what you’re looking for (nica took leon there to cheer him up, but he actually got so distressed that he died, charlotte went there and rode all of the rides and it didn’t do anything for her, and who knows what it might become for the new residents...)

with all of this in mind, it begs the question: what exactly does it mean, that ethan wants wonderland back so badly...?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

In which Food does the Talking

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Potatoes: a most versatile vegetable.  And the chefs handling them? Very versatile themselves. Two smiling pretenders grace the stage called the kitchen–and the one overseeing them is tasked with peeling through them and getting to their very cores.

Imagine this…

Clink, clink.

Two platters were set down in front of Gordon Ramsay.

“Today, Caycay made a potato galette!”

Thin slices of potato were laid out in circles, the forming ringed layers of the galette. The skins had been left on for additional texture, and they had crisped up nicely in the skillet, turning golden where the butter had been brushed.

Cater had prettied the potatoes up with a sprinkle of bright green herbs. The dish was plated with a sunny side up egg--the white glistening, and the yolk still wobbling--and a simple salad of lettuce and sliced tomatoes. Two small paper cups were wedged on the rim of the plate, one holding a crimson sauce and one bright yellow and threaded with spices.

... Cater had also taken the liberty of drawing a man in ketchup on top of the galette. The man looked somewhat cross due to the lines on his face, but he was smiling and surrounded by a number of stars.

Is this meant to be me? Gordon wondered, raising an eyebrow at it.

“As for myself, I have prepared a sweet potato pie for your enjoyment.”

The other dish came set in a pie crust. He hadn’t been expecting anything too ornate out of it, but somehow Rook had managed to beautifully braid the dough and dust it with sugar. Sweet granules were visible even at a distance, adding a crystalline quality to the tart--like treasure waiting to be unearthed.

The filling was a rich orange, a careful combination of pureed sweet potatoes, eggs, milk, vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg... and, of course, just a pinch of salt. It had come out of the oven looking wonderfully creamy and smooth, and was topped off with more slices of sweet potato--these, candied in brown sugar.

... Rook’s smile was a little off-putting. Perhaps he was simply confident in his culinary creation? Or had he snuck something sinister into the pie? (Gordon was more inclined to the latter, given his experiences with previous students in Master Chef.)

“Looks like you two really know your stuff.”

At least when it comes to presentation. But what about the taste?

Gordon sunk his fork into Cater’s galette, then brought it to his mouth. After a few chews, he did the same with Rook’s tart.

“It’s... hmm.” Gordon’s eyebrows drew together as he set his fork down and folded his arms.

He waited for the shock to set in--the pang of something that shouldn’t be there, conditioned from class after class of strange concoctions. A bitter bite, a twinge of sharply sour.

Nothing.

For a few agonizingly long seconds, he didn’t speak a single word.

It was Cater that broke the ice, eagerly leaning over the table and peering into his teacher’s face. “Ne, ne~ So how was the grub, Gordie? It was mega ‘cammable, right? I spent sooo long arranging it!”

Gordon sighed gruffly. “You’ve still got Instagram on your mind?”

Cater looked as though his teacher had sprouted an extra head. “Uh, Twisted Wonderland to Gordie! What’s Instagram?”

“It’s... You know what, never mind that.” Gordon gestured to the galette. “Your dish. It looks lovely and all, but presentation’s not the only thing you’ve got to worry about. The flavors just aren’t there.”

“No way! But it looks totally...”

“We’re not cooking for your Insta... Magicam followers. We’re cooking so that you--” Gordon poked Cater in the chest, “--and the people you’re serving can eat. Medicore tasting food that looks good won’t do it.”

“How merciless you are in matters of the culinary arts, Trickster.” Rook spoke easily, having been observing Gordon’s judgment intently up until that point. “We present our hearts on these platters, and you, with your cutthroat critique, run a blade through us.” 

Gordon pushed his plate away as he turned to the huntsman. “Enough with the pretentiousness. Your dish isn’t any more of an improvement. It’s dreadfully overbearing, and you can still taste it after you’ve swallowed.”

“Whoa, seriously? It sounds like death by sugar rush...” Cater grimaced slightly. “That’s way too much of a good thing, Rook-kun!”

The young chef was unfazed, throwing his head back and laughing from his belly up. “Ah, but proper nutrition is important for performance, non? Complex carbohydrates from the sweet potatoes and simple sugars from the added sweeteners... They will ensure that one has enough energy both in the long and in the short term.

“Unfortunately, it cannot keep for long outside of a fridge. An optimal dish would be one that does not contain dairy or eggs, as they would quickly spoil at room temperature or warmer.”

“Eeeh? No fair pulling out your Science Club smarts on us!”

“Fufu. Not to worry, Monsieur Magicam. Certainly there are ways to enhance one’s dining experience with your own club expertise! Why not consider dinner theater?”

“Like when you watch a show while you eat?”

“Oui! I can see it now: the Pop Music Club gracing the stage, instruments in hand!! The crowd roaring, caught in the throws of passion…! Roi d’Or on the drums, yourself on guitar, and, of course, Monsieur Curiosity on bass, his enchanting vocals ringing out into the inky nigh—t”

“H-Hey, hold up a sec! Let’s not bring Lilia-chan back anywhere near the dining area or the kitchen!”

“... Right, I think I understand where you two are coming from now,” Gordon groaned, a hand to his forehead. “You’re bringing yourselves to the table, and that’s coming through in what you cook.”

Cater, who prioritizes the aesthetic of a dish, and Rook, who considers the function the food will serve... But that’s not all, is it?

The galette: all style and little substance. The pie: too much of one thing. Reflections of their creators, leaning into their strengths to distract from what the flavors were truly masking: their true selves.

Gordon grasped each plate.

“Potatoes,” he began, “are a versatile vegetable. They can be prepared in so many different ways. They can become almost anything we can dream of. A chef’s soul comes out through them.

“Food is a universal language. It’s how chefs communicate.”

With that, the plates were swapped.

The pie in front of Cater, the galette in front of Rook.

“Huh? What’s up with this...?”

Cater’s question was answered with a fork, one offered to each of them.

“I want you to taste the other’s dish,” Gordon stated seriously. “I want you to communicate. If you stick only with what’s familiar, you’ll never grow--and you’ll never understand the ones at the receiving end of that plate.”

“D’ccord.” Rook nodded, effortlessly plucking up the eating utensil held out to him. He passed Cater a friendly smile. “I look forward to sampling the fruits of your labor, Monsieur Magicam!”

“I hope it’s to your tastes! Cay-kun worked super hard on it!” Cater returned the grin and accepted his own fork, but dread roiled deep inside of him. 

He could already smell the intoxicating sweetness of the potato pie wafting up to him. His tongue shriveled and died at the thought of having to try it.

Get it over with quickly.

Cater pierced the pie, taking off a chunk that was more crust than filling. He tucked the piece into his mouth, and sugar and spices exploded across his taste buds. The flavors were intense and bombastic, overwhelming the crust.

Yup, definitely too much, Cater thought, breaking off more crust—and tapping off the excess sugar granules. By itself, the flaky crust melted effortlessly. It was darker, smokier than the rest of the dessert, the aroma of browned butter lingering on his tongue.

An alteration in the recipe.

Beside Cater, the Rook muttered to himself as he chewed, slowly parsing through eager ingredient as they greeted him. “Hmm… Potato, butter, herbs…”

The various sauces, the egg, and the salad were but accessories. None could truly fill the void. Short of a seasoning? Not crispy enough? Or too crispy? It was difficult to pinpoint where in the recipe Cater had faltered, but falter he had.

The galette was fare, in spite of the plate’s alluring appearance. The extra “oomph” in it, the heart, cut out.

Missing.

The two students’ gazes met. Their eyes, different shades.

Cater’s were brighter, the green of leaves with sunlight filtering through them. Rook’s were deeper, the color that the trees turned in the night.

Green and green, masking the truth with gilded lies.

And there, in that moment of tasting, they came to a silent understanding.

He has secrets of his own too.

Gordon glanced between them, catching the glint shared in their eyes. His hands came together, and a thunderous clap resounded in the room.

“Back to the kitchen then—and this time, speak up!! Put your best face forward on those plates!!”

[yandere-society]

Candy Man

Synopsis: Stepping into the world-famous Hope World Candy Factory the day of Valentine’s Day, you are filled with an overwhelming number of sweets and surprises. As a confectionary lover, this is your dream, to not only see the inside of the glittering multi-colored building, but maybe get a glimpse of the interesting man behind all the delicious desserts. There’s also something here, lingering behind every jelly bean wall or chocolate cove. After getting separated from a tour group, you think maybe this was a mistake to come in here so carefree. There may be something sinister behind these seemingly harmless candies.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 4,300+

Admin: @mintedmango​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: Yandere-themes, mentions of death/murder, mentions of gore, blood, passing out/fainting, knives, improvised weapons, being tied down/restrained, hospital beds, unhealthy thinking relationships, cannibalism.

The skin of your lips was being peeled off by your teeth as you nervously flit from foot to foot on your elevator ride up the see-through jelly tube. You could see almost every chocolate cove and red vine tree from the pink tubing your tour group was being brought down to. Your heart was pumping rapidly with a mix of excited and full of tension, and your empty stomach was rumbling as butterflies fluttered, trapped inside. You weren’t sure anymore if not eating this morning to make room for all the sweets that one could possibly enjoy was a good idea. 

You were so anxious you could hardly stand it. Ever since you learned that the infamous Hope World Candy Factory was opening up one day to the public for the first time, you decided you just had to fly across the country and see it for yourself. You’ve loved the company and all the creations that they make ever since you had your first Daydream Bar at the tender age of five. 

All you had to do was buy a ticket for the factory (that costs a pretty, pretty penny, mind you) and you were set for the whole day!

The only catch though was that it was only open on Valentine’s Day and it was strictly for couples to come and enjoy a romantic, sweet-filled day in the candy factory...

And of course, you were as single as single could be. 

That’s just how life goes, right? 

The elevator lurches to a halt suddenly and you almost stop breathing, your excitement overwhelming you. 

“Everyone, step lightly, we have much to see!” Says a stout woman with green hair and carrot-colored skin as she ushers everyone out of the tube and into a dim room with a tiny, tiny door at the end of the hallway. “Now,” she whispers, as she grabs what looks to be different colored (and probably flavored you assume) gelatin keys and sticks a goldenrod one through the small keyhole. “Beyond this door is where you get to roam the marvelous Grand Garden.” 

You gulp, mind full of wonder and awe as you watch her turn the key, and it glitters and sparkles with the bright light beyond the door, much like your eyes right now. 

From the moment of purchasing your own golden ticket, you have been scouring the internet in hopes you would find more info about the Hope World Factory and the mysterious secrets it keeps locked up tight behind its doors. There wasn’t much on the Jung family or the current CEO of the factory. Just rumors of an immense and large edible garden, with so much grandeur and thought put into it, it was something straight out of a fairy tale book. 

“Everything is edible.” She states with a smile before pushing open the door. “But please be advised to stay within the walls of the garden with your partner, or you could end up in some serious… hot chocolate.” 

A few people in your group snicker at her sweet-treated pun, but you can’t focus on anything except seeing what is beyond that bland-colored door, wanting to know if the rumors of splendor are true. Your palms are sweaty and your mind blank with anticipation. 

“Please come back to this door, under the raspberry truffle tree in one hour!” She smiles as she finally pushes the door open for you all to run inside, and see what the Jung family has been hiding for decades. “It’s something out of your purest imagination!”

Speaking of Jung family, you wonder if the rumors are true: the family's youngest son is in charge of the factory now, after his sister got engaged to a rival candy company’s heir. So many whispers and hush-hush with this family, you swear! Deep down you really wanted gossip and drama from them, as selfish as that sounds. You wish they were a little bit messy and spill their internal secrets to the world. So you only really knew what the internet and late-night television hosts would spread amongst the airways, which were usually ridiculous words of slander and vile garbage. 

But what you do know about the famous sweet CEO was that he has an amazing taste in everything from cars, to clothes, especially to candy and you’ve heard that he has an amazing, dazzling smile. Supposedly, and according to the rumors circulating everywhere. 

“Where’s your date, young lady?” The woman with white eyebrows asks up to you with a serious smile on her orange lips, breaking your inner thoughts. Her eyes rake your features up and down, like a human scanner, and you can’t help but gulp. You hoped all your hard work was not in vain. 

“Uh-He’s in...the bathroom.” You lie with a wry smile, hoping she’ll buy it with just enough time to get you into the room she’s so close to unlocking. 

She purses her lips and looks away from you, but doesn’t ask you anything further on the manner. 

“Have fun in the garden!” She says instead of throwing you out and opens the plain door to the grandest thing you think you’ve ever seen. 

Couples scream and laugh as they whiz past you on your journey to roam freely around the edible valley. You can’t be bothered though, as your mouth is going to collect dust if you leave it unhinges for too long. 

There are no words. You couldn’t fathom half the things in this room. Is this even a factory anymore, or are you in heaven? 

It’s… simply breathtaking. 

The online forms were right - there is a giant edible garden - but the words and descriptions on screen didn’t do the real thing any justice. And, of course, they confiscated your phones even before you entered the building so you couldn’t document this creation out of a book come to life scene unfolding before your eyes. 

You are stunned as you walk on the hardened peanut butter cup path towards the giant garden in the middle of four, high walls. Your eyes sparkle, filling with tears of joy upon seeing the beautiful, wonderful sights before your eyes, covering your mouth as the couples in your tour guide pass by your idle body. It is seriously extremely super overwhelming: your senses are going on overdrive as your sockets roam over every inch of the garden that you can see. You just need a moment to take everything in. 

There is so much - so many details and little things going on. 

Trees made of marbled dark and milk chocolate stand tall, protruding into the blue-raspberry colored sky, pastel cotton candy clouds wisping around above you. Most of the whimsical looking plants bear fruit of all kinds and gummy leaves hanging low off their perfectly carved branches. You hear a trickle of something, like a stream of water, and see that there is a tiny clear yet caffeinated creek of soda-pop softly crackling its way through the garden. Following your eyes, you see there’s realistic grey rock-candy gravel and well, rocks, underfoot as well as strings of grass you can only assume are sour green-apple flavored, or even possibly key-lime pie? You can’t be certain but you can’t wait to try it! There’s a fountain spewing caramel in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a pool of white chocolate, and it's held together by what looks to be a brick, but upon a further glance, you suspect that it’s potentially licorice or Twizzlers, or a combination of both. There’s tables, chairs, and benches made out of finely crafted shortbread cookies placed along the peanut butter paths of the edible wonderland. There are colorful flowers made of lollipops and sugared, blown glass softly billowing in the artificial breeze, seemingly waving at you as you gawk on in shock.  

It’s all too beautiful. Your mind is having trouble processing everything until you hear an excited scream about life-sized gummy bear bushes and you can’t help, but want to investigate further. 

Your feet finally start to move as you are openly sniffling and crying: you are such a happy mess. 

A stout figure smiles at your back, a menacing aura surrounding her as she presses a single digit on her smartwatch to the man behind this beautiful room and factory. 

“Fritz?” He questions, nearly shrieking through the speaker with excitement. “How are our esteemed guests doing?”

“Oh… Well, I suppose,” her upper lip curves into something dreadfully evil. “But, we have a lost little crumb who decided to bend the rules and attend the party without a date.” 

The young CEO sighs into the receiver, watching everything unfold from his observation deck placed high above the ground, in order to study the humans roaming around his perfect, edible garden. 

He knows. He’s known since she walked in here that she was alone and didn’t have a special someone to share this day of candy hearts and love songs to. 

Which was perfect because well, you see, neither did he. 

He sighs as he tips his silkened purple top hat up to view the mesmerized crowd down below, throwing up his dark leather boots on the desk in the observation deck. Deep down, the young man was lonely, hiding his family’s recipes and secrets for the rest of his life due to the enigma that was the candy business. His usually jovial smile turns into a sour frown as he watches her stand shell-shocked by the river of soda pop, staring up into the cotton candy clouds. Or, paradise, as he calls it.

It was as if she was looking at him, knowing there was someone watching her admire and take in all the hard work that he and his staff have given to the largest and most amazing room in the factory. He leans into the window, removing his boots from the desk to watch her with her mouth agape take in the splendor and majesty that was his garden. His eyes widen as he studies her expression. She hasn’t even eaten or enjoyed anything in the room yet… Why is that he wonders? Was she a spy for another company? No, it was more like she was in complete disbelief that this was even real. Almost like she was marveling at his handy work...

Suddenly, the young man clad in his expensive purple suit has a wicked thought. Oh yes! If she is a fan of confections of any kind she will be a great asset to the company and myself! A dream only someone of his caliber who’s spent so much of his time up in the clouds could fathom. Or she’ll do nicely for some company if I end up breaking her in the process then! 

“Fritz,” he presses his watch up to his lips that curve into a devious smile. “Bring her up.” His amber eyes turn dark and cloudy as he thinks of his lair, a lab where he designs desserts and candies of all kinds. “I think we found our new taste tester.”

Oh wow! This is really unlike anything you could even dare of dreaming! You don’t think anything can ever compare to the concoctions and creations that the Hope World Factory has let the outside world enjoy for a mere afternoon. It didn’t seem right to you to try anything. If you ate and ruined all the time it took someone to place here so craftily and carefully. No. You didn’t think you could. 

Unlike some...

A playful screech comes from your left and you duck just in time to see a flash of white pass right by your nose. 

You watch with mirth as a couple runs by you, throwing marshmallow fluff off the cherry flavored giant mushrooms placed delicately around the garden. They scream and fly past you, making a mess of the precise and wonderful dessert and bakery items it probably took a whole team of people to create. You frown with judgmental eyes, studying the pair of grown adults act like they were children. 

Though you suppose, candy does revert you back to your childhood, where everything was much more innocent and easy to deal with. 

It was amazing what a room of sweets could do to a group of people. 

They race around, running this way and that, laughing and having the time of their lives with giant smiles plastered on their faces. They disappear from view and you stand watching the space from where they left, under a chocolate tree with gummy bananas hanging off of them. 

Shooting through your body, a zinging pain shoots through your heart feeling like the zap of a thousand volts of electricity that trickles down to your toes and lights its way back up your spine again. 

You freeze watching the pair disappear behind a licorice willow tree. With a tired gulp and a teary blink in your eye, you have to face reality. Truth hurts, as some would say: you are incredibly lonely. 

“Miss,” just then, the shrill voice of the stout lady behind you echoes from where you are standing and you nearly jump right out of your skin you are frightened by the sneaky tour guide. You all but tense up, breathing hitching as your sockets expand, fearing for the worst. “Miss, a word?” Your nerves were on fire as the soda stream pops and fizzles next to you, filling your ears with the carbonated crackling, as well as all the blood that rushes to your ears. Adrenaline running through your veins, like hot-white lightening sparking up and down from head to toe.  

Shit! You think turning to face the orange lady with a sheepish smile. I’ve been caught! 

“Y-Yes?” You mumble as she smiles on at you turning to face her fully. 

“Who can take a sunrise?” She starts to sing an eerie tune and your stomach pits. “Sprinkle it with dew?” Your eyes are the size of the moon as you watch her bring a bag out of her pocket as she continues to smile that weird, twisted smile at you. “Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?” Your heart is pounding out of its chest staring at this round orange woman who reaches into her silkened purple bag, pulling up a handful of what looks like sparkling glitter. “The candy man can.” Her mouth continues to stretch across her face, as she makes invisible worms and spiders crawl along your skin that’s turned to ice. She lifts her hand and blows the dusty glitter into your eyes, as you try to recoil from the crazy action the tour guide throws your way.  

Literally. 

“Hey!” You yell, opening your eyes to find the world covered in glistening lights, the garden shiny and bright for some strange reason. “What the heck?!” 

“Because he mixes it with love,” she ignores you and continues chanting her odd song to you. Your eyelids feel heavy, your body suddenly sluggish, “and chocolate,” you can barely stand on your own two feet as you feel yourself slumping forward and backward. You feel like you are stuck in a murky pit of blackness, and will never be able to escape from the throes of this evil she’s thrown at you. Unable to form a coherent thought, sleep seeps into your mind as you start to succumb to the feeling. Darkness creeps around your vision as you start to fall. Two pairs of hands keep your body up as you hear the orange lady say a few final words. “And makes the world taste good.” 

-

When you come to your senses, you have a sneaking suspicion that you aren’t in the garden anymore.  Your eyes are clouded with that weird dust that the weird-ass tour guide blew in your face. There’s more shining, glittering lights floating above you and you realize all the spotlights are all pointed at you. You try to blink the dust away but every move you make makes your body ache for some reason. Why were you in pain? Did you fall? No, you could have sworn there were two people holding you up, carrying you, while you heard… singing, the whole time…

So weird.

Oh crap, speaking of that green-haired tour guide… You gasp a little, foggy brain finally waking up fully, and you nearly grasp. You finally understand. You were caught! You broke the rules though and you deserve to be reprimanded and rightfully so. But, the question still stands. 

With a groan and a small shift of your head, you try to grab your throbbing head, but it was sadly in vain. 

You blink rapidly. No. This had to be a bad dream right? You are not strapped to a metal object, right? No. Your hands around bound and placed above you? No. You try to kick your legs, only to find your ankles confined into shackles connect to the cool metal item. Loud noises of your struggle erupt from your body, echoing throughout the small, sterile room. Metal clanging around itself was the worst thing you think you’ve ever heard.

There’s… no way… right? 

Your eyes expand, practically falling out of your head as your empty stomach flips over on itself. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, throat running dry. You let out a blood-curdling scream upon realizing that you are tied to a flat, stainless steel table in the middle of a brightly lit, sterile-looking room. You hear the faint melody that evil woman was humming in the distance and you want to throw up you feel physically sick. 

This was something out of a terrible bad trip, a nightmare, a horror movie. Is this a scene from a sci-fi film? Your eyes are shaking in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. 

Sure, you broke the rules. Sure, you should be punished for it or be fined a sum of money. But, wasn’t this a little extreme? What were they going to do? Torture you?  Was the policy for breaking the rules to probe you? With a hard swallow, you honestly hope that’s a solid no. 

“Hi there, little crumb.” Comes the awful, nails on a chalkboard, screeching sound of the stout tour guide flutters in somewhere above you. No! You plead to no one in your head. No please don’t kill me! I haven’t even eaten anything from the garden yet!

Your heart is beating, drumming, pounding at the shackles of your sternum to bust free from your chest. Her sweaty, orange meaty fingers come out of nowhere to twist your face toward her. A twisted smirk forms on her scaly lips, her white eyebrows rising to her wide forehead to reveal her pinked gums and dilated eyes beaming, honing in on you. Her yellow, laser-like eyes lock together with yours, which enlarge in fear. 

“You think you are special, huh?” She laughs, throwing her head back and maniacally cackling. “You think just because the young master has chosen you of all people to be his new taste-tester you think you are something else?” 

“We are going to have so much fun,” she lifts a pumpkin carving knife up to your neck, “together.” She hisses, leaning in, and you nearly taste the bile, the vomit rising in your esophagus while you can’t form a single clear thought as you watch her press the shiny blade to your throat further. Your breathing hitches as she sneers, leaning in closer to practically spit on you. “I’ve loved him for years, since he had dreams to build the garden and you think that YOU,” you wince when you feel the stinging slice of the blade a trickle of blood runs down from your skin and onto the blade. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM FROM ME?”

You are going to die. You are going to die. You are going to be murdered in cold blood by this woman who knows nothing about you. She’s going to kill you and probably play jump-rope in your intestines. 

“Hello, little lady.” A cheerful voice filters in from behind the orange lady, snapping you out of your swirling, disintegrating thoughts of your impending peril and doom. “And goodbye Fritz.” 

Before the round woman could even think to turn around, your vision, that was once white and sterile, is painted in bright sticky red. 

Blood to be exact. 

It drips from the giant blue lollipop-shaped into a knife protruding from the orange chest of the orange tour guide. Red particles splatter upon your body, painting you in the warm, maroon color of her life force that someone is robbing from her. Her eyes roll back into her skull, removing the carving knife from your throat as she spits a lump of clotted blood out of her dry, cracked lips. 

Your lips part in shock, eyes continuing to stay as wide as dinner plates as you watch the lady before you crumple in on herself and slump to the ground in a heap of orange, red, and green. 

A man in silkened purple suit, with a shit-eating grin curving his lips and whose white gloves were speckled and smeared pink from the blood of his staff, was clapping enthusiastically. The sound fills the once sterile room, the noise jarring and ear-splitting as you recoil slightly every time his covered palm connects to the other. 

Why is he clapping? He beams as he steps over her dead, lifeless body as yours tenses up. And who the fuck is he?

You remember where you are and why you were here in the first place and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

He’s… oh my God...

The young CEO of the Hope World Factory: Jung Hoseok. 

He is handsome, there’s no doubt about that. His chestnut-colored hair is barely visible due to the matching violet top hat that covers his head. Amber eyes that sparkle with mischief under the bright spotlight of the medical looking room. You can’t help but drink him in as he starts to loom over you. His slender nose sculpts into a soft-looking smirk, that's curved into a tender smile, shines gently down around you laid out on the cold metal bed. His grin really is magnetic because you are completely captivated by this man who looms lower and lower over you, until you can smell the sweet aroma wafting in around him. 

Enthralled, enchanted, mesmerized… This man has a spell over you and you can't look away. 

But you have to ask, “Are you going to kill me?” 

He blinks at you in disbelief, smile falling only for a moment before he starts scream-laughing. 

“What?” He chuckles as he clutches his sides, cackling himself into stitches. “Oh, no no no, little crumb!” His nostrils flare, honey-colored eyes dilating. “You know who I am, yes? You’ve put two and two together?” 

You nod, with a weak ‘yes’ leaving your mouth. 

“Then you know I’m the infamous candy man, Jung Hoseok.” He sneers, slamming his stained bloody gloves on either side of you on the metal table. “I’m solely going to play with you, little crumb.”

A gasp leaves your lips as you register his words in your head.

You struggle in the shackles, trying to retreat away from the man sneering down at you with mirth. He cocks his head to the side, the bright light being blocked from the man practically climbing on top of you. “Do you know what my main ingredient is here at the Hope World Factory?” His voice drops an octave and his playful eyes cloud over with something dark. 

You swivel your head back and forth in a no.

Hoseok slams his hand down next to your head, nabbing your attention in full force. “Speak when spoken to, pet.”

“N-No.” You whisper, a tear leaves one of your eyes, sliding out of your socket, dripping onto the cold table. 

“Very good.” He caresses your face with the back of his pinkened-color glove. With a menacing and misplaced smirk, Hoseok dips down to your neck where the tour guide shallowly cut you. You whimper with trembling lips, closing your eyes moving your face away from him, which only reveals the pulse point of your neck to him more. “Oh, very good.” You hear him inhale before the warm flat of his tongue laps the trickle of blood that streams out from your flesh. 

Did he just… drink your blood?

Hoseok stands then, lips swollen and colored with your blood, grinning like a wild, maniac above you. “Oh, you’ll do just nicely.”

“F-for-r wh-what?” You shake, tied to the table you are straining, desperate to get out of. 

He raises his hands above you, eyes dark with no sparkle left in them. “I drained my last taste tester, broke her, some would say. But, oh you,” he cups your face leaning in to grin at you with his pearly whites coated in your blood, “you just need to lay here and look pretty while your blood is our secret ingredient for all things sweet in the Hope World Factory.” He shrieks, laughing like an insane person as he cups your face in his sticky palms. “Isn’t that great?” 

Your heart breaks as you silently beg for a quick and easy death like the lady on the ground. This was not what you had in mind for your Valentine's Day, as well as the rest of your life.

“You can’t keep me here.” You whisper, but it sounds like you are begging him more at this point than anything. 

He ignores you and starts humming that dreadfully eerie song from earlier as he leans back over to trap your wounds in between his lips again. “The candy man can.” He hums into your skin, his tongue swirling all over your poor neck. “Because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.” 

———

[heartofsnark]

Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Six): A messy brain, I’m not okay

Notes:  As always, thanks for the continuous support of this story. There has even been people doing fan art of Tsuneko which blows my mind. This was another chapter I struggled with, I’m still unsure when writing Rhion. But, I love him enough to try.

Word Count:  5,499

Warnings:  Nightmare, Suicide (within nightmare) and another panic attack for good measure. I feel like Tsuneko has a lot of panic attacks but given her situation, I feel it’s justified.

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

Tsuneko’s dorm kitchenette is filled with savory and sweet scents; she puts the finishing touch on the final dish with a low hum. She packs it all away in containers, it will be a pain carrying all of the dishes, but she’ll have to manage. It’s odd how excited she is about this, after dealing with Ichinomiya and Oh, visiting Wonderland feels like a vacation. For all his eccentricities, the Hatter has by far been the kindest of the men involved with the auctions. The only one who can even compare is Baba, but his kindness comes with incessant and nauseating attempts to flirt.

There are a few blotches of stuff on her apron and she hopes it doesn’t stain, ironic given what it is, but she can’t help it. She tosses it in the hamper and throws on a jacket; she already changed into more casual clothes the second she was back from the boutique. She feels so much better in her own clothes, her hair done a way she likes, and she even put in her tongue ring. It was something reckless she did a few years ago in college, she rarely gets to wear it anymore with her job, but it feels nice to have it back in place.

She gathers the food, balancing it all in her arms as she heads out. Tsuneko has to cut through the lobby to head towards Wonderland. She feels a little out of place, she’s basically only here if she’s working, so wearing her casual clothes in the lobby is a new experience.

“Tsuneko!” A familiar and accented voice rings out, every muscle in her body tenses as Mr. Bucci comes over.

“Hello, Mr. Bucci, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” She’s careful as she speaks, aware of the possibility of showing her tongue ring. As much as she likes fucking over Ichinomiya looking like some sort of delinquent in front of his potential work partner feels like a step too far.

“I thought you were spending the day with Carolina and them?”

“I was with them earlier, but I had to leave, I’m on my way to drop off some food actually.”

“You cook?”

“A little, actually,” she manages to open the top container, “do you want a piece of cherry almond bread?’

The older man guffaws at her struggling to get a piece out, she’s hoping the sweet can soothe any bad impression she’s made.

“Thank you very much,” he takes a bite, “there’s nothing better than home cooking, I swear.”

“I’m so glad you like it, I’ll have you cook something just for you while you’re here.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll be looking forward to it then.”

Tsuneko waves him off and sighs once he’s out of hearing distance, he’s definitely easier to contend with than his daughter, but she’d still hate to upset him. Not only is he important for Ichinomiya’s work, but she really doesn’t want to make enemies with the Italian mafia. Doesn’t sound like a good time to her. She takes the stairs down to the Hatter’s tea room and knocks on the door.

“It’s Tsune- Alice.”

“Come in! Come in!”

Tsuneko steps into the room and no less surreal than it was the first time, she’s not sure she could ever get used to this. This time the table is already set, the decorations from last time are still out, and the costumed men are already at the table.

“We’ve all been waiting; I’ve been so excited I could barely set the table.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, now,” she tells him as she sets everything out, “do you mind pouring the tea?”

The scent of Assam tea mingles with the smells of the food she’s made; Yorkshire pudding with roast, gravy and vegetables. Along with the lemon chiffon pie he requested as a dessert, she made cherry almond bread. He seems to have a taste for sweet fruity things; the lemon chiffon pie and raspberry sauce both coming to mind. The Hatter’s eyes are trained on her as she plates the main course; she tried to make a lot since the March Hare and Dormouse are here as well.

“You seem to be in high spirits today, Alice.”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

“I had a lot of fun cooking for you, plus I’d rather be here than with any of the penthouse guys any day.” she answers with a shrug.

“Ahh, you’ll make my heart fly out of my chest, saying things like that.”

“Pfft, sure, I just hope you like everything I made.”

“It smells so delicious; I might drift off to sleep.” The Hatter closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale.

“I swear to god, if you fall asleep before you even try any of this, I’ll be shoving it down your throat.”

“Ah! How scary!” He jolts up in his seat with wide eyes and she can’t help but snicker.

“Here you go,” she places a plate in front of the Hatter and the two pseudo-furries, other than initial greetings the two have never spoken. If they’re the people the Mad Hatter is always with, he must get lonely, doesn’t he? She shakes off the thought and takes her seat.

“Yes, this is it! Look how the middle is sunken in, isn’t it lovely! ~”

“I just hope it tastes good.” She tried them before hand, but just because they taste good to her doesn’t mean they’ll meet his standard, since he actually knows how they’re supposed to taste.

“Let’s have a taste, Alice,” her leg bounces with nervous energy as the Hatter takes a bite, “mmm, it’s delicious, both the texture and flavor is perfection! ~”

“Yes,” she pumps her fist, “I’m so happy you like them!”

Her nerves relax and she takes a big bite out of her own Yorkshire pudding, the soft texture of the bread mixed with the flavor of the gravy brightens her smile even more.

“How is it?”

“It’s really soft and delicious.”

“Yes, I’m so glad you like them, Alice! ~”

“I’m happy they turned out well, I was really worried when you first asked me to make them. I had no idea what they were.”

“Really? What did you think it was?” He tilts his head to the side, his oversized hat nearly falling off from the movement.

“Uhhhh,” heat floods her cheeks and she stares at her plate, “like dessert pudding, possibly…shaped like a dog…like the terriers.”

“Pfffft, hahahaha!”

A peal of laughter escapes his painted lips and she buries her head in her hands, her skin feels like it’s on fire.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

“You say the most interesting things, Alice! ~,” he takes a bite of the roast beef, “mmm, the roast beef is perfectly cooked and the gravy is robust and flavorful!”

“You’re too nice.”

“It’s a lovely dinner, the roast beef is sliced so perfectly thin. If it’s cut too thick, it wouldn’t make for a good sandwich later. Ah, isn’t it a wonder how such a delicious meal can be made from such simple ingredients?”

“It really is. I thought it would be a lot more complicated.”

“Flour, eggs, and milk, that’s all the batter is, it’s like it’s transformed by magic!”

Tsuneko’s face is red through the entire meal, as laves compliment after compliment on her cooking. Every bite of food is accompanied by a noise of pleasure and a poetic gushing of how much he loves it. He cleans his plate of the main dish before digging into the cherry almond bread.

“Mmmm, the tart cherries and sweet bread are a lovely a combination! ~”

It’s gone in moments and she’s licking crumbs off her fingers, as the Hatter begins to dig into the lemon chiffon pie. She can’t get over how childlike all his actions seem to be, excitedly digging into every dish with an impossibly wide smile.

“The ephemeral meringue reminds me of a night blooming cactus as it melts instantly in my mouth. The sweet and sour lemon cream gives life to my very heart! ~”

“I’m pretty sure if your heart was pumping lemon cream, you’d die.”

“And I’m pretty sure you can’t make pudding into the shape of a dog,” he teases with a soft smile.

“Shut up.”

She pouts and takes a sip of tea, once the food is gone the March Hare and Dormouse take their leave, not long after a familiar fluff ball comes walking in.

“Oh, Cheshire, how are you today?”

The Hatter greets the oversized cat as she tries to jump into a seat, but she has trouble lifting herself. Tsuneko puts her hand under Cheshire’s back feet and gives her a lift up.

“Back from your nightly walk, are you?” Cheshire mews back at the Hatter’s question, “Oh? That’s wonderful. That’s the best part of taking a walk, isn’t it?”

“What did Cheshire say?” Tsuneko raises an eyebrow, humoring the Hatter’s attempt to be Dr. Doolittle.

“She was watching a beautiful butterfly fall asleep and felt the night breeze caress her cheeks.”

“Sounds like a lovely time, are you hungry?”

Tsuneko gets a little piece of roast beef, letting Cheshire eat it from her hand. Once she’s cleaned her hand, she starts scratching her ear, the cat leaning into the touch and purring.

“I think Cheshire has gained some weight.”

“It’s fine, she wears it well, want me to brush her fur out?”

The Hatter smiles brightly and brings her a brush. She begins stroking it through the cat’s fur; the silky fluff is relaxing to pet through. Cheshire curls up in her lap, purring with every brush and pet against her fur.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, about the auctions,” Tsuneko brings up, scratching under Cheshire’s chin.

“Hmm, what could that be?”

Tsuneko’s mouth dries out, thoughts of that stage, that night. This isn’t stage fright, she knows that. She’s never been afraid of speaking to crowds, but any advice or help from someone who steps onto that stage regularly is welcomed. She clicks her tongue ring against the roof of her mouth, fidgeting with Cheshire’s fur.

“Do you…ever get…nervous getting on stage?”

His head tilts curiously to the side, his hat once again threatening to topple over. He chews on his painted bottom lip and his face wrinkles in concentration.

“Are you nervous about it?”

“Uh….maybe, just a bit.”

“Why would the stage make you nervous?”

“Y’know, being stared at...and gunk…” She supposes severe trauma from being sold like a literal object can be safely tucked into the ‘gunk’ category.  

"You worry about the silliest things," he waves his hand like it'll make her fear disappear, "you'll do wonderfully!"

Despite the chipper tone, not a single word that came out of his mouth was helpful. She sighs, she’s not sure what she expected, the Hatter is eccentric at best and completely detached from reality at worse, why would he be able to help her?

“’Preciate it,” she teeters back in her chair with her feet on the table and Cheshire still in her lap, “so, you grew up in England?”  

His smile drops and every muscle in his body tenses, like she’s thrown cold water on him. She plays with the ring in her tongue, nervously pushing it up and down. She’s never seen him like this, like her one little question has sent his world crashing down.

“The place where I grew up…yes.”

“You said the Yorkshire pudding was from your home country, so I was curious…”

“The place where I grew up, it’s a place where there are beautiful roses…”

His eyes soften when he mentions the roses and Tsuneko finds her own wandering to the walls of Wonderland. Roses are painted over them, what she once assumed was just another reference to his favorite fairy tale has taken on a new meaning. Clearly, he has conflicted feelings about where he came from, but the roses seem to be a pleasant memory for him. There’s a pang in her heart, as strange as he is, he’s a kind person and seeing him hurt for even a second hurts her.

“That must be nice, roses are really beautiful.”

“They are,” he’s beaming again, “being surrounded by beautiful things is the best. That’s why Wonderland is so incredible. The clear sky, the lush garden, a wonderful table at which to have parties, roses, and-oh, I know there’s something I haven’t shown you yet, Alice!”

He’s gesturing flamboyantly as he rushes towards the wall, Cheshire hops out of her lap to start sniffing around the room. Tsuneko idly picks at the fur left on her shorts and tights while she waits for the Hatter’s new surprise. She hears the click of a switch and her breath catches in her throat.

The ceiling has shifted, no longer showing an evening sky, it’s now pitch black with gleaming stars. It looks so real, she knows it’s not, but she can see the starlight shining against the velvet black. It almost feels like she’s back home, sitting on her roof and stargazing again.

“Whoa, they look so real.”

“They are real stars in Wonderland.”

“It reminds me of when I was little,” Tsuneko can’t help but say, maybe because he talked a bit about his past, she feels like she should share her own.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was a small place so you could see the stars really well. I use to always climb up to the roof of our house to see them. My dad kept telling me I was gonna fall and break my neck, he would worry over the stupidest shit.”

“Did you ever fall?”

“Yeah, but I broke my arm, so,” she shrugs her shoulders, “won that one.”

The Hatter laughs and she finds herself joining it, cracking up at her own dumb ass.

“You have a way at looking at the bright side, I suppose,” The Hatter manages to say as his giggles die down.

“Hmmm, more like just spiteful enough to say I won no matter what, but spin it however you want,” she pauses for a moment, “you want to like properly stargaze?”

“Properly stargaze?”

She smiles at the way his head tilts again; she wonders what he looks like beneath the makeup. His behaviors alone are too cute; does he have a cute face to match? Wait, what is she thinking? He’s an auctioneer who helped sell her, no matter how kind or cute he may or may not be, she can’t forget that.

“Yeah,” she shakes off the odd thought, “when there are stargazing event people will get blankets and lay out on the ground to watch them.”

“Oh,” his eyes are bright and wide, “that sounds like fun, let's do that!”

“Okay, help me move the table so we can lie down.”

She hooks her fingers under one side of the table and the Hatter’s eyebrows furrow, but follows suit in getting his hand on the other side. He’s biting his lip, is he worried about something?

“Count of three lift it up with me okay; one, two, three!”

She lifts and realizes why he was worried; she’s definitely lifting the brunt of the table’s weight. His arms are trembling from what he’s holding up, he’s not very strong. She finds herself smiling as she guide him to helping her move the table further off to the side, that must be why he needs the furry guys to move stuff. They put down the table once it’s far enough to the side and he’s letting out soft huffs of air, little beads of sweat make his makeup run a bit. It wasn’t that heavy, next time she could probably lift it alone.

“Do you have any extra blankets?”

“Uh, um, in the closet.” He points her in a direction; he’s too winded to be dramatic about it.

She’s smiling as she rummages, finding the biggest softest blanket she can. It falls across the center of the room with a soft noise, big enough for two and a cat. Tsuneko falls back against the blanket with all the grace of a boulder, stretching her arms and legs out to feel the soft fabric beneath her.

The Hatter follows suit, falling in place beside her. She can feel the warmth of his presence next to her, the fabric of his costume brushing against her, his limbs tangled with her own in the places where their sprawled bodies overlap and the way any semblance of personal space has been abandoned.

It’s not uncomfortable though, it should be but it isn’t. This kind of thing usually makes her want to scream and run away. Blurring of boundaries and sharing stories of the past, things that normally put a pit in her stomach feel fine here with him. Why? She’s never told Sakiko or Chisato a thing about her past, not even little anecdotes and she usually doesn’t let them too close, a casual touch here and there too. But, she’s never been able to relax like this, just letting someone be in her space.

Her eyes drift from the artificial stars to the man beside her, eyes narrowing as she tries to crack this code. His hat fell off, the teal hair color must be wash out, and she can see black patches of hair starting to peek through. The white face paint around his neck and forehead has started to rub off, little patches of regular fair skin beneath. She wants to fix it, retouch up his hair and makeup for him. She’s so accustomed to his over the top fake appearance, seeing even glimmers of the person beneath it is making her a little uncomfortable.

It’s because he’s fake.

The realization of it hits her. That’s why this is okay, why she can tell him about falling off the roof and can let him into her space, he’s not real. He is, but he isn’t. Sakiko and Chisato are real people they’re opinions, judgments, and actions have an impact on her. If they know the dumb shit she’s done or see her vulnerable, they’re judgment would hurt so much, because it’ll mean something.

The Hatter is fake, he may exist, but everything about him feels fake. It’s not like talking to a real person; she’s talking to a character, someone whose existence only impacts Wonderland. Everything about him is so far detached from reality, even Wonderland feels like she’s stepped into another world; it feels like nothing here matters. Like saying things to an imaginary friend or Kiyo. It means nothing, so why bother with boundaries? But, the Hatter exists and can give some sort of proper response. He’s not real enough, not enough of a person for her hang ups to matter, but enough of a person that it doesn’t feel like she’s talking to herself.

He falls into this uncanny valley of existence and it brings her a sense of comfort. There’s someone she can tell stupid things too, someone who can hear her, but not impact her. He’s a step up from talking into the void, but still a step down from talking to people. She can relax and have no fear with him, something she thought she could only do alone.

“Do I have something on my face Alice?”

“Huh, ah no, hey, you want to hear something stupid that happened after I broke my arm?” She stares back at the sky as she changes the topic.

“What’s that?”

“A couple days after a kid at school was annoying me, but I couldn’t punch him because of my arm. I was so upset I couldn’t fight because of my cast, I went home and tried to cut it off with a handsaw.”

“What!?” he slaps a hand over his mouth as he laughs.”

“My dad caught me before I broke through it all and had to take me to get it redone; I was so upset I didn’t talk to him for a whole day.”

“I never imagined my Alice was such a violent child,” he teases.

“You have no idea, I was a garbage kid. Like bad seed, demon spawn type shit. My parents would have had better luck raising a rabid dog, I swear.”

“You couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You want to bet? I swear every kid and their parents hated me. One time, a kid’s mom brought in cupcakes I didn’t like, so I pushed him off the jungle gym. Who does that!?”

“Alice, that’s awful!”

“I know, I was the worst, I’m not sure how my folks put up with me.”

“Lots of patience, I’m sure.”

“I think my dad still has a scar from when I bit him for telling me to go to bed.”

“You’re starting to sound more like the jabberwock than my Alice.”

“I can see that, I might be a jabberwock in disguise, you never know.”

“I’d still be happy to have you, even as a jabberwock. I’d adore you, claws and all.”

“You’re too sweet-oof,” the wind is knocked out of her as Cheshire hops onto her chest, “well, hello to you too.”

“What’s that Cheshire? Hmmm, you’d love Alice as a jabberwock too, guess we’re in agreement.”

“Awww, is that true sweetie?” She scratches over the cat’s fur, feeling Cheshire lean into her touch and purr.

“She means every word of it, no matter what she’d adore you.”

Heat flood Tsuneko’s cheeks, he’s really too nice to her, even knowing he helped sell her she can’t help thinking how nice he is.

“Hey, there’s even constellations up there,” Tsuneko points up at the projected night sky, “I’m pretty sure that’s Capricorn.”

“Do you know the constellations Alice?”

“A few of them, not a lot though, there was a girl in my class who could find and name them all in a second.”

There’s a pang in her heart, guilt eating at her when she thinks about that girl, but she swallows it down like bile and pushes those thoughts from her mind. She wants to be happy right now, in this little piece of Wonderland completely divorced from reality and in front of this odd man who seems to only exist here, she wants to be happy.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know any of them, Alice.”

“I only learned a few from other people; if I’m being honest they don’t mean anything to me. It all looks like random dots to me, the stories are interesting though.”

“Did you get invited out a lot, Alice?”

“Uhhh, invite isn’t really the right word, I just kind of showed up, whether anyone wanted me there or not. They’re fun though, have you ever been to anything like that?”

“Huh!? Uh, I can’t remember clearly, I’ve been in Wonderland for the past four years, so…”

“You haven’t been outside in four years?”

“Huh? Of course not,” his voice trembles and his eyes widen, “are you suggesting I go above ground, your jokes are too much Alice.”

“Hmm, okay, I understand.”

She’s not sure she does fully, but she can tell he must not want to push the issue. Maybe he’s agoraphobic? Why wouldn’t he ever want to leave, he’s even more cut off from reality then she realized. Does he have a family? Do they know what he does?

Does she want to know?

If she knew about those things, he’d be more human. If he’s more human, would she still feel so safe being like this with him? Would this new-found sense of comfort, a strange almost friendship, be ruined once he’s real?

Her eyelids are heavy and she can’t help yawning. How late is it? She checks the time on her phone, it’s past two am, how did time pass by so quickly?

“Are you tired Alice?” The Hatter asks with a soft voice, it feels like a lullaby to her sleepy brain.

Even in Wonderland, completely separate from reality, she’s not going to sleep in front of someone. The most she’s ever allowed is the occasional dozing off at hair salon, but those are never deep or enough for dream, just resting her eyes before she’s told to move. If she allows herself to sleep here, it’ll be a deep dreamy sleep. She’ll have a nightmare and scare him, or worse. There’s no place far enough from reality for her to allow herself to be that vulnerable.

“Yeah, I have to get headed home.” She pulls herself up to her feet and the hatter follows suit.

“Oh…you know, you could sleep here.”

“Uh, no, I couldn’t intrude like that.”

“It wouldn’t be intruding; I…have a room you can use.”

“Huh, you do?”

“I do and it might not be safe for you to walk alone so late.”

“My dorm is like five minutes away.”

His eyes focus on the floor and he pouts.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

His voice is soft and timid; he looks like a lost puppy dog. If he has another bedroom, there are a couple of doors around Wonderland, then she wouldn’t be near him while she was sleeping. So, it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Alright, where’s the spare room?”

“Oh! Yes! It’s right this way! ~”

He’s back to excited child status and all but skips towards one of the doors. She trails after him, movements sluggish with exhaustion. The Hatter opens the door like he’s revealing the most magical of secrets and her eyes widen.

The room is gorgeous, if not for the fact it would mean living with someone, Tsuneko wouldn’t mind staying here permanently. Part of the walls are soft floral patterns, the lower half pastel blue and white vertical stripes. The bed has a soft blue blanket and pale pink canopy.

“It’s so cute!”

“I’m glad you like it, you can use it anytime you want.”

“I really appreciate it, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, I’m happy to have you here; I’ll let you sleep now.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Alice.”

She waves him off for the night and shuts the door, why does he have the extra room? It seems like an odd thing to keep, the March Hare and Dormouse obviously don’t stay here. But, everything about him is odd, so maybe it’s best not to question things. She sends a quick text asking Chisato to check on Kiyo if she can and kicks off her boots, she doesn’t exactly have pajamas here, but she’s tired enough to fall asleep in anything.

Maybe it’s the stress of the shopping trip with Carolina finally coming down on her or having just gotten to relax with someone, either way she doesn’t feel the usual resistance to getting ready to sleep. She’s ready to crash already, she just hope she doesn’t make any noises to attract attention to her room.  The walls don’t seem too thin, but that doesn’t mean soundproof.

She sets an alarm on her phone, tosses off her jacket and undoes the bun that’s been holding up half of her hair before throwing herself on the bed. It’s plush and so soft; it isn’t just nice to look at. Tsuneko roots and finds her way under the blanket; her eyelids grow heavier and heavier as she drifts off to sleep.

A deafening sort of silence overwhelms her as Tsuneko stands in the house; too cold, too dark, and too quiet to be considered a home.

The silence is pierced as rope shifts and wood creaks. Her heart pounds in her ears and she jolts into movement. A different kind of overwhelming, too quiet replaced with too loud, complete whiplash.

Too loud.

Too desperate.

Hot tears stream down her face, her lungs burn with the need to breath. It’s like she’s on fire, heat simmering under her skin and sweat running down the back of her neck.

Tsuneko sees her. Long dark hair falls over her face, noose wrapped tighter around her neck and the wood creaks with the strain to hold her body up. She doesn’t look dead, like she could move or breathe any second. Maybe, Tsuneko can save her.

She’s under them, forcing their weight up onto her shoulders. If she can lift them up higher, she can reduce the tension, stop them from strangling.

If only she was taller.

If only she was stronger.

If only she was smarter.

If only she was faster.

If only she was better.

If only she was enough.

But she’s not.

The weight of the body slumps heavy her shoulders, they’ve gone cold and decay is setting in.

Too short, she couldn’t get them up higher.

Too weak, couldn’t lift them up further.

Too stupid, why didn’t she grab a ladder, something to cut the rope?

Too late, if only she had gotten there sooner.

Too cruel, that’s why they’d choose death over her.

She’s not enough good things and too many bad things, a disgusting mess that drives everyone away.  

Death is more desirable than her.

Death was better than one more moment with her.

Tsuneko wakes up with a jerk, knocking a pillow over in her frenetic movement. Her face is soaking wet, hot tears flooding her vision, she tries to wipe them away but her fingers are numb and trembling.

She can’t catch a deep enough breathe; every breath is a desperate gasp that just feels too shallow to keep her going. Her throat is tight, like it’s swelling and her heart won’t stop pounding.

Just a little peace, that’s all she wants. Why is that too much to ask? Why is her mind constantly reminding her of every failure, why does she have to be such a failure?

She needs to get away. Doesn’t matter where, just away.

Her hands are shaking; she nearly drops her phone and puts her jacket on inside out. She doesn’t bother zipping her boots, just shoving her feet into them before moving.

That’s all she needs to do right now, is move, go, get away. The door of the spare bedroom closes behind her with a noise and her panic fogged brain can just hear the sound of water running.

It’s coming from the bathroom, a shower.

The Hatter is taking a shower, so mundane, but so odd to think of with him. His hair color and makeup would be completely washed away, he must look…human. The water stops and the door starts to creak open. If she stays she’ll see who he is, he’ll be real.

She’s gone.

The door to Wonderland slams shut behind her and she’s taking the stairs two at a time, just pushing forward with every stumble or trip that threatens to send her falling back down.

She doesn’t want to see the real him.

She doesn’t want to see him as a person.

She doesn’t want the illusion broken.

If she lets that happen…

It’s over.

It’s ruined.

Whatever glimmer of happiness, whatever minute amount of peace she’s found here will be destroyed.

He’ll be real, he’ll be human, and he’ll know what a mess she is.

He’ll have shown her the real him before he’s ready, there’s a reason he’s like this, he’ll never want to see her again.

She’s so sick of everything going to shit.

She’s sick of how fragile every moment of happiness is.

She doesn’t want to destroy anything else.

She doesn’t want to ruin anything else.

She doesn’t want to be like this.

Why can’t she stop being like this?

Why can’t she just be happy?

Her feet hurt. She stops moving, a few random people brushing past her without concern for her state. She’s somewhere in the city, she’s not sure where. She just kept moving.

She’s breathing heavy, but it’s different. Huffs from exertion rather than panic. Her heart is starting to calm. Her limbs are heavy and leaden, but no longer numb. She just wants to fall down in the middle of the street and rest, maybe in the road so a truck tire can cave her skull in.

Instead, she checks her phone. She’s going to be late for work. If Ichinomiya thinks she’s avoiding work for the bet, she’ll lose automatically.

Does it even matter?

Can she even get her life back on track if she wins?

Even if she does, will it make her happy?

It’s not like she was ever really happy before.

Maybe even if she wins she’d be better off dead.

She doesn’t have time for this anymore. She’s used up her daily allotted breakdown time it seems, mental health takes a back seat to a paycheck until further notice.

Tsuneko sits down at a nearby bus stop, looking at the schedules available and makes a call, a heavy sigh on her lips.

“Yeah, Kenzaki, I’m going to be late. Sorry for being a bother.”

Her voice cracks with how much she means it. She’s just making everyone else’s life harder, fucking things up, that’s all she ever does.

[ms-writingsandstuff-blog]

Car sick

Request: Can you write a Harry imagine where he gets carsick on his way to see your parents and he’s miserable and feeling ill and your mum gets him comfortable in bed once you guys get there?? Thanks!!            

Hello sweet anon. Thank you so much for this request. First one ever so I’m a bit nervous. Though it’s short I hope you like it :).

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Do you know what it feels like to wake up to a winter wonderland. The snow, untouched by human feet. Looking forward to jumping in the cold substance making snow angels and a snowman. Or two. The joy of the perspective of a day full of winter fun. Well Harry would do anything to get that feeling again. He woke up to this wonderful snowy landscape and he looked forward to today. Visiting your mom and playing in the snow with your little brother and sister. But right now he was feeling all but excited. He didn’t really know why he felt this way but he knew that it happened shortly after the two of you left your house and entered the traffic jam that formed almost next to your house. As the roads were all cleared of snow you thiught the drive would be a little over an hour. But the two of you were in the car for over an hour and weren’t even half way there. He felt as if he was about to trow up any moment.

“Love…” You look over at Harry as your voice sounds concerned. A hum escaping his mouth.

“You ok?” He didn’t look fine though he said he was the last three times.

“J-Jus a bit…” his hand went up to his mouth as he swallowed back down what came up. “Jus a bit nauseous.”

Concern waved over your face as you saw Harry struggling to keep up his act of feeling ok up.

“You don’t have to pretend you know… We could go back. Or I co-” You were stopped mid sentence by the horn of the car behind you. You hadn’t look at the traffic as you were talking to Harry and it looked as if things were finally moving again. You put your feet on the gas as you got the car moving again.

“Na, jus keep going. Half way there now.” His lipped curled up just the slightest at his own joke. He knew that he could be in the car for a little while longer.

You felt bad for Harry you knew how much Harry loved your brother and sister. Though technically they were your half brother and sister as your mom remarried after your father had left the two of you. They were much younger then you, ten and eight years old to be exact. But it had felt as if they had always been there and you knew that Harry looked forward to today. It was the first snow of the year and the two of you decided it would be fun to spend it at your mum’s. But as you glanced over once more his complexion got even worse. His eyes were closed and his skin was almost as white as the snow.

You were happy that traffic was moving again although it was at the slowest pace ever. You looked over to Harry more often then not. Letting your hand rest on his knee every once and awhile.

****

Harry could feel his stomach twisting and turning after you had to use the break and the gas pedal way to often. He had swallowed back whatever it was that was in his stomach before and he could taste the sour substance not making him feel any better. He knew that you had more then enough plastic bags in your car then necessary and he could use one but he didn’t want to in front of you.

“You sure we shouldn’t stop somewhere to grab you a bottle of water or something?” Your voice was soft and he felt bad for starting the day like this.

“I will feel better once we get to your mom. We’re nearly there.” And that was more then enough for him. He grabbed the first plastic bag he could find an emptied his stomach.

Harry was right though. You arrived at your mom a couple minutes later. You felt bad for Harry feeling like this.

As you parked the car in front of the house you mom came out.

“Hello loves.” She cheered as you stepped out. “Whats wrong?” She saw your look of concern as she pulled you in for a hug. Pulling back while holding your shoulders, examining your face. “He is…” you started as you walked over to the other side of the car opening the door for Harry.

“He is not feeling to well.”

Your mom nodded. “I’ll tell those little rascals to be quit. You get him upstairs.”

Harry got out of the car and walked up to the door. You grabbed he bag, with wat was your well prepared breakfast, to trow it away in the container by the door.

As you got by the door your mom was already at Harry’s side, getting him upstairs. She nodded at you letting you know that she would help him and you could get to your siblings.

“I’m sorry…” Harry started as he walked in to your old room. Kicking his boots to the side before sitting down on your bed.

“Nonsense, anyone could get sick. I saw the news, you silly gooses coming over here.” Your mom shakes her head as she gets a blanket from the closet “anyone would get car sick in that traffic jam.”

“We just wanted to have fun with -” “ I know you two did” your mom interrupted him" and that is lovely but for now you just lay here and rest a bit ok. You will probably feel better soon. I will get you a glass of water and then I’ll be downstairs. Just call if you need anything else.“

Harry smiled at her as he took the blanket and rolled on to his left side. She was the most caring person, well besides his own mum of course, and he felt happy to know that you inherited her caring genes. You would make a wonderful mum of your own someday. But for know he would just lay here for a bit. Hoping to get better soon.

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Hope you all liked it :). Thanks for reading! :)

Other writings can be found here.

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